At Home with Holmes
by PolkaDotMilly
Summary: Sherlock always pretended that love was a mystery to him, but Irene Adler proved that it wasn't. Warning, extreme Fluff.
1. Chapter 1

She leaned in and inhaled his scent. He smelt like home, a place unfamiliar to her and a place she barely remembered from her childhood. Her childhood had been short-lived, being kicked out of the family 'home' at age 15; Irene Adler had to grow up fast. She rarely settled at any one location for long, constantly moving to avoid detection of those who were seeking her out. But that was a distant memory now; however one thing remained the same, Vulnerability. She felt so vulnerable back in her younger days, so alone and afraid; so scared. That had led her to the whole dominatrix act, the needing to be powerful and in control. But it was just an act, and it seemed it was only the pale-skinned, dark haired man she lay in the arms of now that could strip it from her, who could expose what was under the mask, the vulnerability that had never really removed itself from her being. Yet here, the vulnerability was not in a scared manner, she wasn't frightened. She was so vulnerable because she was so in love with him, she would risk her life for him now, something she never thought she would do for a man. She felt like a child curled up in his lap, listening to his heart beat and watching the amber flamed dance of the logs in the fireplace. She felt so helplessly in love that she didn't know what to do. She knew she would have to leave the safety of 221B at some point, but she didn't want to think about that just yet. She wanted to curl up in his arms and forget. Everything. Except for her love of Sherlock Holmes.

He picked her up and laid her down across the leather armchair opposite. She collapsed across the chair, head rested on one arm, her body curled up in the seat and her shoeless feet hanging from the other. She was as weightless as a ragdoll and seemed only half conscious.

Sherlock rose from his stoop and strode over to the door, where he put on his coat and looped his scarf around his neck in his trademark fashion. Making sure he had the flat keys and his phone, he looked once more at the sleeping woman who was laid on his armchair.

Who, quite frankly, was no longer asleep.

She was curled up on the seat of the chair looking at him with eyes similar to those of a small dog, curious to where his master was going, head cocked slightly to one side and eyes filled with questions.

'Where are you going?' She queried

Sherlock hesitated before giving his answer

'Out'

The truth was that he had no idea where he was going. He just couldn't stay around her for too long, it drove him insane. He couldn't read her like he could the others; John, Lestrade, Mrs Hudson. She was a mystery to him, almost as if she had a switch somewhere to deactivate her ability to be read, and he just couldn't find where to reactivate it.

His chain of thought was stopped in its tracks as he felt her wrap her arms around him. Without her heels, she was smaller than him; he estimated about 5"4. Her arms were pressed around his waist and as she gazed up at him in the amber light she looked as gorgeous as she ever did, even stripped free of makeup and fancy garments.

'Don't go…' she pleaded, looking up at him all doughy eyed and sad. But Sherlock was used to this, and persuasion had not effect on him anymore. He just gave her a tap on the nose and wriggled free of her grip, muttering something about not being long and shutting the door behind him.

Feeling a sense of defeat, Irene curled back up in the armchair and gazed at the fire. Even though he had only just left, she still missed him. Every waking moment she spent without him her heart ached. She gazed vacantly at the fire for a while, watching the flames until she heard the warm, familiar voice whisper in her ear.

'Unless you have a better offer...'


	2. Chapter 2

Irene Adler clicked her heels impatiently on the wooden floor of her Hallway. She glanced at the clock on the wall. Sighing, she continued to pace around the floor, she hated hanging about.  
'Kate!' she suddenly shouted  
'Yes, Ms. Adler?' Kate replied, leaning on the doorframe which connected the kitchen to the hallway.  
'I'm going out' Irene replied grabbing a fur trimmed jacket and slipping her phone into her pocket  
'Do you want me to drive you? Getting a cab is dangerous Ms. Adler' Kate practically purred.  
'I live life on the edge Kate. I'll be back later' she retorted, her voice tinged in sarcasm. She had no intentions of returning till the next day.

Stepping outside, she hailed a cab and gave the address to the driver. Sinking back into her seat, she unlocked her phone and began typing a text message, a small smile forming on her face.

***

Sherlock was sat at the table 221b. He sat drinking his coffee and pondering over a case. He hadn't spoken to John for two days now. The truth is he hadn't been able to concentrate. He had a nagging thought in the back of his mind and he just couldn't quite put his finger on it. Yet it only took a split second for him to work out what it was. The final piece of the nagging puzzle came in the form of a sound, one single sound, and the picture suddenly became clear.

A moan erupted from his pocket. A slow smirk spread across his face like butter across hot toast. His eyes sparkled and he suddenly snapped out of his daze. Reaching into his pocket, he unlocked his phone and read the message.

"Dinner? - IA'

Sherlock felt an unusual sensation; some may go as far as calling it an 'Emotion'. He quickly suppressed it. He didn't like emotions, they messed with his work. Slipping his phone back into his pocket, he wandered over to the window and picked up his violin.

***  
John woke to the sound of a violin. Rolling over, he rubbed his eyes and listening to the tune. He made a mental note of the song and tried to work out when Sherlock had last played it. The violin was the key to finding out what Sherlock was thinking or feeling. Different songs meant different things. The song in question, John had guessed he had last heard this tune about a fortnight ago and Sherlock's bedroom smelt strangely of strong perfume.

Then it all became clear. There was only one woman he knew who was clever enough and sly enough to worm her way into Sherlock's bedroom. And this was her theme-tune being thrown across the violin at this very minute.

Climbing out of bed, John threw on a robe and wandered into the kitchen. Sherlock had taken a break from the violin and was staring vacantly out on the street.

'Irene' John stated, making a coffee

'What?' Sherlock's head whipped round so fast it was a wonder how he didn't get whiplash.

'Good Morning to you too.' John sighed

'What do you mean?' Sherlock queried

'I meant that you haven't spoken to me in days and ...'

'Not that, what you said before' Sherlock snapped

'Oh, Irene. She's text you hasn't she?'  
John kept a poker face, inwardly grinning at his smartness

Sherlock felt his pocket but his phone was still there. John couldn't have heard the ringtone, he'd been asleep.

'How did you know?' Sherlock looked puzzled

'So I'm right then?' John smirked

'How?' Sherlock replied, his voice sharp and demanding.

'You last played that tune about a fortnight ago as I came back here, as soon as I walked in you could smell the perfume from your bedroom and there's only one person sly enough to get into your bed Sherlock'

Shrugging Sherlock turned back to his violin. Before he had chance to play anything, the familiar noise once again rose from his pocket. Turning on his heels, he saw John sniggering

'See? I was right Sherlock!'

Sherlock shook his head and sighed. He opened his phone.

'Are you sure you couldn't manage Dinner? I'm very hungry. -IA'

Sherlock felt his heart beating faster. He tried to fight it but he couldn't. He failed to resist the urge to text her back.

'Always so hungry Ms. Adler. You have quite the appetite. Where shall we meet? - SH'

'Here' he felt the breath of the whisper in his ear.


End file.
